Wounded
by Tyranusfan
Summary: Dean and Sam flee Chicago after escaping the trap set for their father. Epilogue to the episode Shadow. Oneshot.


This is my first _Supernatural_ story. I thought it up as an epilogue to tonight's episode about the trap the demon set for the Winchesters in Chicago, and the mauling they all took.

I don't own any of it. Please review.

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**Wounded**

Dean landed on the bed with an exhausted sigh and a grunt of pain. He heard Sam do the same on the opposite bed. It had been only a few hours since they'd fled Chicago, and the demon that had set a trap for them and their father. They finally stopped running about 100 miles south of the city and found a motel off the freeway outside of Bloomington.

The high-school age clerk working the check-in desk believed Dean's story about getting mauled by a wild animal during a camping trip. _Close to the truth, anyway_. It was the best story he could come up with, given his bloody and beaten appearance. Sam had stayed by the car to keep the suspicions to a minimum. Fortunately, the teenager hadn't asked too many questions.

Dean groaned as he held a towel to his clawed forehead, "Get the first aid kit, Sam."

Sam complied wordlessly. He dug through the duffle bags for a minute before he produced the little white box. He stepped over to Dean's side and started dabbing a cloth with alcohol. Dean frowned, took the cloth from his brother and stood, pushing Sam gently down onto the bed in his place. It was Sam's turn to frown.

"What the---?"

Dean smirked, "I patch you up _first_. You know that. That's one of our rules."

Sam's frown lightened somewhat, "What…you just make that up?"

"Yeah."

Sam chuckled softly, "Why?"

"'Cause I'm older than you, and that's the way it goes."

"I think that's stupid, Dean."

"I think _you're_ stupid, Sammy."

"Shut up, jerk."

"Stop moving around, bitch."

Sam held still, watching Dean's face. Dean looked as bad as Sam felt, he was sure of that. He winced when Dean pressed in on the scratches along his left cheek.

"Sorry, bro…" Dean whispered. Sam noticed that the joking glint from a moment ago had left Dean's eyes.

"What?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head slowly, "Nothing."

"What?" Sam asked, more forcefully.

Dean sighed, "You look like crap, Sammy…like you got bitch-slapped by a rake."

Sam laughed at that, "Seen yourself recently?"

Dean huffed, mocking being offended, "Hey! I always look good!"

"Ha! Look in a mirror…."

Dean laughed at that. He quietly hoped Sam's facial wound wouldn't need stitches.

He thought back to all the times they had been like this. One of them hurt, or both of them hurt, patching each other up and each making the other laugh, healing each other in more ways than one. That's the way it had always been. His good humor began to fade as Sam's earlier words drifted back to him.

_Things will never be the way they were before…you're gonna have to let me go my own way._

Dean cleaned and covered Sam's remaining wounds silently, then checked his ribs and back for any other injuries. Thankfully, he didn't find any. As he put the cloth aside, Sam got up and moved to switch places with Dean.

"Your turn."

Dean sat without arguing. Sam took his place, kneeling down in front of his brother, cleaning and patching the similar wounds on Dean's face and neck. Sam didn't miss the faraway look that had settled in his brother's eyes. He cleaned another scrape and wiped some blood away from Dean's eyes.

"Hey, Dean?"

Dean looked him in the eye for the first time since leaving Chicago, "Yeah?"

Sam stared at him for a moment, then spoke softly, "You know what I said earlier…about going back to school?"

Dean winced, more at the words than at Sam cleaning his wounds. He nodded slowly.

Sam focused his gaze on his work, then continued, "If…when this is all over, what I told you was true. I want to go back to California and finish school."

Dean nodded somberly.

"And I want you to come with me."

Dean blinked a few times, surprised by what he had just heard.

"Huh?"

Sam didn't stop working, "You heard me."

Dean smirked, "I think I'd cramp your style, Sammy. Besides, I told you, there's always gonna be something out there that needs to be hunted down."

Sam stopped and looked at him, "I said I wanted a normal life, Dean. I never said I didn't want you in it. I told you in Indiana…we're all we've got. People like us don't have 'friends.' It's just _us_."

Dean was moved, really. He didn't know how to respond to what Sam was suggesting. _How could that possibly work out?_

"Sammy…thanks…but it wouldn't work."

Sam frowned, "Why not? Who says it wouldn't work? There are plenty of things to hunt down in California…it's a big state. And you'd need a home base. We could make that work."

Dean shook his head, "Sam---"

"Dean. Just think about it. I want you around, even if we're not hunting together. We're family," he paused, finishing up, "Just promise me you'll think about it."

Dean wanted to say no, flat out. He had taken enough from his little brother's "normal life" already. Sam was right before about Dean needing to let go. But, Sam didn't play fair. He knew that Sam knew that if Dean promised to consider this, he would keep his word. And Sam knew that the longer Dean thought about it, the better it would sound to him, and the more likely it would be that he'd say yes. No, Sammy didn't play fair.

"You cheat, Sammy---"

"Dean!"

"Alright! Alright…I promise. I'll _think_ about it."

Sam grinned like a little boy. _Like the little boy he used to be._ Dean grimaced…he could tell Sam was already starting to think he had won. Dean released an exasperated 'big brother' sigh, one he'd perfected over time, and pointed at the first aid kit again.

"You gonna break out the aspirin or what? This," he gestured to his face, "is starting to hurt."

Sam tossed him the little bottle of pills, and hauled himself onto the other bed. A solemn look crossed his battered features when he looked back at Dean.

"You think Dad's ok?"

Dean laughed, "I bet he's doing better than either of us right now."

Sam glanced at him, and then joined Dean laughing. Their wounds began to heal.

Like they always did.


End file.
